


Irresistible

by notguilty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Confused Sherlock, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Passionate Sex, Sherlock sharing secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:54:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notguilty/pseuds/notguilty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is possible for someone to have some sort of influence on Sherlock? To make him reveal very personal secrets in a blink of an eye? To expose feelings of love he forgot he had? In all his naivety, he thought he it locked away. He thought painful experiences from his past couldn't affect him anymore. He was wrong... and it frightens him more than you can imagine. But it's alright... it's all fine...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meeting Sherlock Holmes

**Author's Note:**

> Some time post-Reichenbach. Rated Explicit for chapter 3+ (So if you can't be bothered with the introduction, go to chapter 3 :P)
> 
> Based on a 160 page fic I wrote over the last 1,5 years, but it needed complete rewriting for AO3. Won't bother you with 160 pages of blahblah ;o)
> 
> Hope you enjoy it.
> 
> x
> 
> PS: Just wanted to let you know that English is not my first language... Please don't kill me if you find grammar fuck ups. I tried to keep them to a minimum :)

It was late at night, around 11pm. The evening was dreary and I was walking home from the tube station after visiting a friend on the other side of London. The drizzling rain in combination with the strong wind and the cold made it feel as though the drizzle cut through my skin. I tied my scarf around my face and I pulled my shoulders up. The weather was unbearable. Luckily I had only a few 100 yards to go before I was home. 

I quickened my pace. The neighbourhood in which I lived wasn’t exactly upper class. Some dodgy individuals on the other side of the road were proof. They were probably dealing drugs or something similarly illegal. For me, this shared flat was a temporary solution until I found a proper job with which I could pay a small flat in a better neighbourhood. In the meantime I just had to try not to be beaten, harassed, kidnapped or murdered. 

The rain got stronger and I tried to walk even faster. I walked around the corner of another concrete three story high block of flats and I could see my concrete paradise in the distance. The light was on, which meant Jonathan, my flatmate, was home. I tried not to think about the cold, but concentrate on the warm shower I would be having in about five minutes. I had to hang on a bit longer. Right in front of our block of flats was a T-crossing and a car, driving at an incredible speed, emerged from the left to disappear again at the right. ‘Idiots’, I thought to myself. Young driver trying to look tough in front of his friends, with or without alcohol or drugs, it was every day’s business. Especially at night. 

Step by step I came closer to the crossing and I could still hear the squeaking tires of the car. It sounded like it had turned around and I was right. Still with an incredible speed, the car emerged from the right, but this time turned left and drove towards me. As I watched it happening, I suddenly felt an arm around me and a tall man dragged me into a small pitch dark alleyway between two blocks. I wanted to scream, but he put his hand over my mouth and gripped me tight. I panicked and tried to escape, but the man was so much stronger than me. He leaned against the side of one of the blocks. The car speeded passed and disappeared around the corner. The sound of the engine slowly faded and after what felt like ages, the sound merged with the background noise of the city. 

The street was again quiet, apart from the wind and the horizontal rain.  
“Don’t move, I won’t hurt you”, a dark voice whispered. I tried to control my breathing and my heartbeat. I failed. I tried once more to escape, but he again refused to let me go.  
“I’m serious”, he said. “Don’t fight. I’m just here to help you.”  
‘Help me with what?’, I thought. What was this lunatic on about? I wasn’t in trouble, I never had been. The only situation that ever led me into trouble was folding a paper aeroplane at high school, but that was rather harmless. I spent five minutes in the headmaster’s office, nothing more. I got angry and I gripped his arm tight and tried to pull his hand from my mouth. It wasn’t helping. I could barely breath.  
“Can you promise me to keep quiet if I let my hand go?” he asked.  
I nodded slowly.  
“Are you sure? Because you get yourself into trouble if you scream.”  
I nodded again slowly.  
Equally slowly he started to remove his hand from my mouth and put it on my shoulder. I could taste the leather from his black gloves. I took several deep breaths when his hand was gone. Finally my oxygen levels could restore. He still held his left arm around my body so there was no chance of moving.  
“What are you doing?!” I whispered, still with a quickly beating heart.  
“Protecting you”, he said.  
“From what?”  
“You don’t want to know.”  
What was that for an answer? Of course I wanted to know. I had never been threatened before in my life!  
With a sigh the man gave in. “You saw that car, right? Well, they would have kidnapped you.”  
I startled. “What?! Why?”  
I was panicking again and raised my voice a bit too much. The man immediately put his hand over my mouth.  
“Be quiet”, he said at a demanding tone. “They could be everywhere.”  
I nodded again.  
“They are looking for young women to...” He stopped talking and looked around.  
“To what?” I asked.  
“You don’t want to know. It’s enough for you to know that they are an criminal organization who hunt for women at night.”  
“And how do you know?” I whispered.  
“I’m after them.”  
“Are you with the police?”  
“No.” He paused and then answered: “You have to trust me on this one. Do you trust me?”  
I felt I had no choice. “I guess I have to”, I said and I shrugged. Truth was that I had never been more scared in my life. I was shaking on my feet. Cold sweat was breaking out and I knew I was pale, but in these circumstances no one would notice. The man gripped my right wrist strongly and he slowly released me with his left arm. I finally had the chance to turn around and look at my attacker. Or rescuer. I didn’t know what to think of him yet. He was tall and slim and had a long dark coat with a dark coloured scarf. He also had curly dark hair and a very pale skin. Probably even paler than mine. He had a remarkably distinctive face and with a determined gaze he looked around us.  
“Do you think it is safe for me to go home?” I whispered. It was worth trying, because this was all a bad dream. The car was long gone and I started thinking about my shower again.  
“No. There were only two man in the car which means two men are hunting by foot and just call for assistance when they see you.”  
“You said women. So they are not only after me, right?”  
“No.”  
“Can you just take me home then? I live at the end of the street. I’m safe there, am I not?”  
“Yes.”  
It was silent for a moment, I was awaiting the rest of his answer, but it didn’t came. He was still looking around him with his fierce expression, as if he tried to hear something. He was very concentrated. Then, out of the blue, we heard a gunshot nearby. It must have been in the street, not many yards away. The fright made me skip a heartbeat or two and froze me. In a reflex, the man let my hand go to get his gun. I got even more scared, but I couldn’t move. The man pushed me against the wall with his left hand. He had a gun. He had a gun! What the hell was happening?  


“Don’t move”, he whispered. “We have to get away. Follow me very quietly.”  
He slowly started moving to the rear of the block of flats. I followed. I had no choice. I suddenly thought about all the hours I spent in front of my computer playing first person shooting games. This could very well be a level in one of my favourite games. Unfortunately this was real. There were people with guns not far away from us. If this went wrong, it went horribly wrong. No second chances. It wasn’t fun. It was unbearable. We reached the back of the block and kneeled down between a few garbage containers. My heart nearly exploded and every noise I heard gave me shivers. The dark haired man seemed confident and alert. He didn’t pay attention to me at all, but I also rather wanted him to be concentrated on more important things. 

We sat by the containers for about five minutes. Then the man started moving again. We slowly made our way passed the entire block until we leaned against the other side wall. I was nearer to home again, but I’m sure the man didn’t see it that way. We moved to the front edge of the block. The man looked if the coast was clear. It wasn’t.  
“There are two men talking in the distance. What flat do you live in?”  
I pointed at the block about 50 yards away. “Third floor.”  
“Right”, the man said. “We can do this. We go around the next block, cross the street, hide in the alley at the left side of your block.”  


And so we did. It was easier and faster, because we knew the men weren’t able to see us. We hid in the alley, just as he said. Now I only had to go from the alley to the front door. The man tried to see where the two other men were and he didn’t look happy.  
“We have to wait until they have past, they are heading straight towards us.”  
I trusted him. We were sheltered from the rain luckily, so I didn’t mind waiting if that was the only way to get to my warm shower. I looked at the man. His upper lip had a V shape in the middle, something I had never seen so obvious on a man before. Cupid's bow, isn't that what they call it? His eyebrows were broad, but not thick and black. His face was long. And he was calm, very calm. He must be used to these situations. So who was he?  
“Do you know the men?” I whispered.  
“Only their faces. I have seen them before, as few nights back.”  
“Why are you following them?”  
“Isn’t it obvious?”  
“Alright, they are criminals. But why you? Who are you?”  
“I’m a consulting detective”, he said. I repeated the words in my mind to understand the meaning.  
“What are you trying to discover?” I said. I was getting interested, that was for sure.  
“Patterns. Where, when, who, how.”  
He certainly wasn’t a man of words. But when he spoke, it was direct. He spit his words out with his dark voice. Honest, not holding back. He clearly was a thinker. You could nearly hear his brain work.  


We could now hear the men and we kneeled down to get us as invisible as we could be. It worked. The men slowly disappeared into the night.  
“Listen to me. You should not get out of your house again when it’s dark. This neighbourhood was a problem and will continue to be a problem. Women will disappear and you won’t even read it in the papers, because this organization has connections. This is serious, alright?”  
I nodded. I thought London was a reasonably save city when I moved here three months ago, but it was going downhill by the minute.  
“You have escaped and you should be warned by now”, he then said to me. Warned? Of course I was warned. The single most uncomfortable situation in your life will stay with you for a considerable time. I probably wouldn’t forget this soon.  
“Now go”, the man said. “It’s safe now.”  
I looked at him and he nodded again. We stood up and he pushed me towards the door. I got my key out, ran to the door and opened it. The man disappeared in the dark immediately. I couldn’t even thank him, as I felt I should have. “Remember what I said”, was all he had said when I ran to the door. My shaking hands unlocked it and when I stood inside I felt faint. The relief caused my body to shut down. I sat down on the stairs with my head in my hands. What the hell just happened? I took a deep breath and took the scarf of. I was sweating like a pig and completely soaked from the rain. Tears started rolling down my face when I quickly ran upstairs. Did I really escape a kidnapping? I entered the flat, completely exhausted and with red eyes.  
“What the hell happened to you?” Jonathan asked with a shocked expression on his face when he saw me.  
“You don’t want to know”, I answered. I fell down on the couch, still shaking.  
“You’re crying.”  
“Am I?” I whispered.  
Jonathan stared at me. We only knew each other for a few weeks, but he was my best friend. We both needed a cheap flat for the time being, and when you have to, you can better share it with someone in the same situation. Jonathan was a recent graduate, a financial man, working at the local electronic store to earn enough money to keep a roof over his head. Me, a recent IT graduate, working at the local car rental company. He was a good guy to live with. And he was worried about me. Very worried. I could see it.  
“Tell me”, he said.  
I shook my head. I sat upright and walked towards the window. Carefully I peeped through the curtains. The street looked quiet and calm. I gazed as far as I could to see if I could recognize the men, but of course they were all long gone.  
“What are you looking at?” Jonathan tried again.  
“Nothing. There’s nothing.”  
I kept on staring. Not 15 minutes ago I heard a gunshot, but there was never a body. Who had aimed at who? Did he miss? We didn’t hear footsteps or shouting. I couldn’t fit the pieces together. 

Out of nowhere, the same dark car caught my eye. Again with high speed it drove passed our block of flats.  
“That was the car”, I whispered to no one in particular. Jonathan stood up and joined me at the window. “The car with the kidnappers”, I whispered.  
“What?! You were kidnapped”, Jonathan suddenly said with a hoarse voice.  
“Nearly.”  
“Why?”  
“Beats me.” I shrugged my shoulders. We both were silent. I felt a tear running down my cheek again. Jonathan put an arm around me and I gratefully leaned against him. But then my mouth fell open. A dark shape crawled over the pavement. Could it be? It certainly looked like him. He looked hurt and he was crawling.  
“Dear god”, I whispered. I didn’t know what to do.  
“Who’s that?”  
“He saved me”, I quickly said. “Come with me, we have to help him.”  
We ran out, down the stairs, out of the front door and it was still pouring down. The man tried to walk away, but his leg was badly hurt. He groaned, he was in pain.  
“I told you to stay inside!”, he shouted with a bitterly painful face. “They are still around.”  
“Come inside”, I shouted back.  
“Don’t worry about me, I will manage. Go back inside now!”  
Jonathan stayed a few feet behind to hold the front door.  
“You are bleeding, come inside!” I said again.  
At that moment we could hear the car approaching again. It was heading directly for us. Without hesitation, I dragged the man with me into the hallway. He screamed out, because of the pain. Jonathan quickly closed the door behind us. The man lay on his back in the hallway and turned around. I saw the blood on his light blue socks. I lifted his trouser leg slightly and it was soaked with blood.  
“We need to get you upstairs”, I whispered.  
He refused and tried to stand up. “I’ll manage.”  
“No, you won’t.”  
He looked at me with his piercing eyes. They were blue, I noticed. Bright blue. “I’ll be the judge of that”, he said in a deep voice.  
“Let me at least put a bandage on it. You’ll leave a trace of blood through the whole city”, I said. A puddle started to form under his right shoe already. “And you probably die from blood loss on the way. Look, you did something for me, now I will do something for you. Come on.”  
We held the elevator and he looked around for a second, hesitating. His only options were going back outside or coming with us. I was afraid he would chose option one, because he was staring so vividly at the front door. But then, without saying a word, he entered the elevator with us.  
As I stood behind him, I saw his damaged coat. It was as though he was ashamed by his presence. Always impeccably dressed and confident, but now vulnerable. I realized he didn’t want to be seen in this state. We walked inside our flat and I gave him a chair. He started to take his shoe off as I walked to the bathroom to get a towel and some bandages.  
“Oh god”, I heard Jonathan behind me. I immediately knew he saw the cut. He hates the sight of blood and I heard him walking away. When I came back and kneeled in front of the man I saw a huge open wound appearing. I pulled his sock off, red of blood.  
“What has happened to you?” I said with open mouth.  
“I got hit by the car.”  
“Intentionally?” I asked.  
“Not from my side. I think it was from their side though.”  
“You need stitches”, I said.  
“I have a doctor at home”, he answered.  
“Seriously?” I said surprised and grinned.  
“Yes.”  
Again these piercing eyes looked at me. You couldn't argue with these eyes and I sighed. “Alright, I’ll just wrap you in then.”  
I placed a piece of cloth with iodine substance on the wound and the biting pain made him shiver. I started to wind a bandage around it.  
“So tell me. Do you hang out on the streets every single night to observe them?”  
“Not every night. Only when I deem it necessary.”  
“Why was tonight necessary?”  
“I need to observe the ways they work. They have complicated internal codes and I need to crack them.”  
“How do you know?”  
“Because I investigate them. I found documents when they weren’t looking.”  
“How?”  
“I broke in. But you don’t need to know about that. Their secrets are my secrets.”  
“Do you have help? I mean, do you work together with someone else? ”  
“No.”  
I grinned and he looked up. Disapproval could be read from his face. “You are not suggesting you operate alone? You surely have the police or other detectives backing you up.”  
“No.”  
“Not?”  
“I’ll manage on my own. I prefer to work alone.”  
“You are confident,” I said with jealousy in my voice. “I wish I was.”  
“I trust my own capability.” He looked at the bandage. “That’s tight”, he said as he tried to move his ankle.  
“Of course it’s tight, otherwise you’ll bleed. As your doctor will confirm later. He will think you’re mad for not visiting a hospital.”  
He looked at me again. I smiled in return. “There you go.”  
“Thanks”, he replied. He stood up and pulled his jacket straight. With his hand he dusted some mud off his coat, as if that mattered. He walked towards the window and peeped through the same curtain as I did earlier.  
“I’d better go home”, he said.  
“Sure.”  
“Thanks for your help.” He said it as though it cost him a lot of energy to socialize. I could see why he was working alone. Probably no one would be able to work with him anyway.  
“No problem.”  
He put his damaged coat back on and disappeared out of the front door leaving Jonathan and me in awe.  
“Odd fellow”, was the only thing Jonathan could say about him. “Doesn’t look like the person who rescues others.”  
“But still he did”, I said. I still stared at the front door. “Or at least, that’s what he convinced me he did. Maybe those people didn’t want to kidnap me, but did I have a choice who to believe? Not really. I didn’t even get his name.”


	2. An Unexpected Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock had to be told about the threat. However, the visit wasn't exactly comparable to what I had in mind...

Life continued as though nothing happened. I didn’t talk about my unpleasant experience to anyone. And for obvious reasons my parents should never find out. I explained everything in detail to Jonathan and his face went pale. He insisted to pick me up from the tube station for the rest of the winter. I wanted to say to him that he didn’t need to do that, but in fact I was grateful. The whole episode had impressed me more than I had hoped. In a negative way. I had never liked the dark streets, not even in countryside villages in summer, but now I was nothing less than scared. I quit running and I quit the unnecessary trips to the shops in the neighbourhood. I wasn’t going out anymore, unless Jonathan went with me. I stayed indoors, nicely tucked away under my fleece blanket with my laptop next to me. Every morning I would go to work, pray the day would pass by fast and then returned home. I had the most boring life of any person in London. I needed a proper job a proper flat in proper neighbourhood, and I needed it fast.

On another boring Monday afternoon I followed my usual ritual. I went home by tube and Jonathan was waiting for me at the entrance. We walked home and all was well. We ordered a pizza and sat down in front of the television. Time for our daily ritual of dinner time comedy series. All was well in our world.  
Around 8pm I was searching for my mobile phone, I couldn’t find it anywhere. I searched the whole flat until I realized I must have left it in my jacket pocket. I walked to the hallway and felt every pocket. Got it! I took it out and looked at it with amazement. Someone had cello taped a note to it. Colleagues playing a trick on me, I thought. I grinned and tried to scratch the tape off. I unfolded the piece of paper, but it wasn’t what I thought it was. Written with a black felt tip pen it said: ‘The penalty for involvement with Sherlock Holmes is death. You have been warned.’

I felt faint. Who the hell is Sherlock Holmes? I didn't need to think long about that. Was he the dark haired guy who helped me? Was this from the people who wanted to kidnap me? How did they know, they didn’t even see me! Or did they? I ran to the living room and gave Jonathan the note as I paced up and down the living room.  
“What’s this?” he said.  
“It was taped to my phone.”  
“By who?”  
“I don’t know!” I shouted in a panicking way. “They are watching me. They must be, but I am not involved. I don’t want to be. It’s a mistake. Oh god...” My heart beat raise again and I couldn't quit pacing up and down.  
“We have to go to the police”, Jonathan said without thinking.  
“Now?”  
“First thing tomorrow morning when it’s light outside.”  
“But I have to work.”  
“No, you don’t. You have to call them you have flu or something.” I tried to argue, but he continued: “Come on, some people are threatening to kill you! That’s much more important than work.”  
He was right. Of course he was. I couldn’t think properly. All kind of thoughts were crossing my mind. Especially the thought that a man would be waiting for me at my front door to shoot a bullet through my head wasn’t pleasant.

I thought about the dark haired man as I lie awake in bed that night. So his name was Sherlock Holmes. Odd name. Was it real? Was he just a detective? Was he a detective at all? He wasn’t working for the police and yet he was very involved. He apparently was known in the criminal world, and he was not liked by the sound of the note. Maybe he was the enemy of this gang and did everything to sabotage their work. But why? I wanted answers.

I wished I could let him know they send me a threat, but I had no idea where he lived. Ah well, maybe he wasn’t even bothered. He didn’t look like the person who is bothered about other people opinions. Interesting character he was. I suddenly felt his grip on me again, which was terrifying. He was strong. I thought about the gunshot and about him suddenly pulling a gun out nowhere. And then my thoughts went to that huge, bloody wound and to him shouting at me not to help him. I got the threat, so obviously he was still alive which meant he had made it to that doctor he was talking about. The wound was nothing I had seen before. If it had been any other person, I would have send him to hospital right away or would have called an ambulance. The cut was so deep and so long. It was bleeding like there was no tomorrow. He must have been in agony, I know he was, but he hardly showed it. A normal person would be happy with the help. This guy was so uncomfortable. Ashamed even. I seemed like he rather wanted to die then to receive help. Why? Nearly an hour of thoughts later, I wished I could see him again... Another hour later, and I still was awake. Twisting and turning in my bed, hoping to fall asleep. This was going nowhere. I decided to get up and get my laptop. Nowadays you can find information about everyone on the world wide web. Why not about Sherlock Holmes?

I was in for a surprise. There was an old blog by a Dr John Watson who apparently wrote about the cases they worked on. However, the last post was from nearly a year ago. Then there was a website: 'the science of deduction', but similar to the blog, the last entry was nearly a year ago. Interesting stuff, by the way. I spent a lot of time reading all the stories by John and Sherlock until some rays of sunlight where sneaking passed the curtains.  
When I continued my search I found numberous newspaper articles. 'Suicide of fake genius' plenty of them stated.  
Hang on? What?! Just what?! That couldn't be right. Again I read every single word about it I could find. He was definitely not dead though. He was right there with me in my flat. That was definitely the same person. Was that why he didn't want to be helped? Because he was afraid Jonathan and I would recognize him? No, I concluded, that behaviour was just him. John's blog gave enough evidence.  
I read on. He jumped from a building apparently. How did he survive? How did someone get him to jump in the first place? The more I read, the more I realized he must have been forced. Come on, by what John Watson wrote, he couldn't be fake. Never.

“What the hell are you doing here so early?”  
Jonathan stood in front of me in the living room.  
“Couldn't sleep.”  
“What a surprise”, he sighed.  
“I'm not going to the police”, I said and Jonathan looked puzzled.  
“Why not? You were threatened?”  
“I'm going to find Sherlock Holmes instead.”  
“And how are you planning to do that?”  
“Going to Baker Street and hope he still lives there. Although probably not, because he died a year ago, but maybe someone there can give me more information.”  
Obviously I had to explain this to Jonathan. He thought it was madness that I refused to go to the police, but I wanted to try this first. After all the information I've read that night, I really wanted to see Sherlock Holmes again.

I took a shower, got dressed and two hours later I stood at the other side of the street from 221b Baker Street. I looked at the building and I was wondering which of the windows belonged to that address. The small cafe below the flat was open and I decided to buy a coffee to go with staring at the building. I wished I could afford a flat like that. I was more than fed up with my disgusting neighbourhood.  
So? Was this the place that he had lived of was still living in?

I took a deep breath, walked over and pressed the doorbell. My heart was nearly beating out of my chest. To my surprise a short older lady appearing in the door opening.  
“I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes. Is he living here?”  
“Yes, dear, he lives upstairs. Let me just have a look if he's at home.”  
“Thank you.”  
I wanted to do a small jump in the air, but I held back. This was good news. When the lady opened the door again, she invited me in.  
“I think he's quite busy, but just go up and see if he has time.”  
I thanked her again and she pointed at the stairs I had to take. The stairs took me to an opened door and I walked straight into a living room. It was a mess, there were boxes and books everywhere. I grinned, it was clear this was a man's flat.  
“Hello?” I said.  
“Come through, Tina”, I heard a dark voice say. How the hell did he know my name, I wondered. The voice was coming from the kitchen, so I put my head around the corner. There he sat at the kitchen table. The complete kitchen area was one large laboratory and he sat on a chair, looked through a microscope.  
“Wow”, I whispered.  
“Why are you here?” he said without looking up. “You're not going to thank me, are you?”  
“Not necessarily”, I answered. His disinterest was disturbing and uncomfortable.  
“Then why are you here?”  
“I have something for you”, I said as I got the note out of my pocket. He turned his head towards me. “It's a threat from the criminal organization you're after.”  
I had his attention. He even got up to take a look at it. “Hmm”, was his response. I could nearly hear him thinking.  
“Have you been to the police?”  
“No.”  
“Very good.”  
He walked to the living room and looked out of the window.  
“How did you find it?”  
“It was in my pocket, taped around my mobile phone.”  
“When?”  
“I found it yesterday evening. Must have happened on my way to do grocery shopping, because I haven't been out for anything else.”  
“No one came up to you with threats?”  
“No.”  
“I want you to go outside, walk towards the tube station and come back here.”  
I frowned my eyebrows. “Why?”  
“Just do it.”  
Was he now really asking me to walk to and from the tube station?  
“Go on”, he said again, this time more demanding, and waved with his hand towards the door.  
I shrugged and did what he said. Was he having a laugh? I walked out, looked up at the window where Sherlock stood and walked towards the station. While walking, I thought about John Watson's blog. This could fit right into the awkward experiences he wrote down.

I got a free newspaper at the station and walked back. The whole journey took me less then 10 minutes. Sherlock didn't even bother to open the door when I came back, it was the lady who did it for him. She hadn't even noticed I'd gone out.  
I walked the stairs again and entered the living room. Sherlock still stood at the window.  
“And?” I asked.  
“You are being followed. You have read what was on the note, did you?”  
“Yes.”  
“Why did you come up to me then?”  
“I was planning to go to the police, but then I read John Watson's blog last night when I couldn't sleep. You don't like the police.”  
I saw a short smile.  
“I also read that you've committed suicide. You look rather alive to me.”  
He didn't expect that and turned around. “Don't believe anything you read”, he quietly said.  
I walked up to the window too. “Where is the guy who's following me then?”  
“There. The bold one with the black jacket. Have you seen him before?”  
I had no idea. I couldn't recall.  
“Do you think they're going to kill me?”  
“Depends if he told his superiors you're here. Do you want to find out?”  
“Eh... yes. But how?”  
“Stay right here”, he walked to a cupboard and suddenly threw a gun at me.  
“What am I supposed to do with that?!” I shouted.  
“Threaten him.”  
He got a chair from the kitchen and put it in the living room.  
“When I come back with this guy, point the gun at him when we enter and look as confident as possible.”  
“Eh... ok”, I said with hesitation, not really realizing what was going on. Sherlock took his coat and ran towards his bedroom where he climbed through a window. What the hell was happening? This was absolutely not what I expected. This morning I thought I was going to give him the note, have a chat about it and go home. What was I supposed to do with a gun? I never held a real gun in my life! Was it loaded? There is a safety thing on it, isn't it?  
I looked at the chair. Confident. I had to look confident. I pointed the gun at the chair like James Bond would have done, but when I saw myself in the mirror, I sighed. I didn't look like James Bond, I looked like a frightened 25 year old with no sense of fashion.  
Right. First that coat off. I was sweating like a pig. I put my hair in a ponytail to avoid it covering my eyes at an imported moment. You never know.

The minutes passed by and I paced through the living room, searching for my confidence. Then I heard the front door. My heart skipped a beat. It was definitely Sherlock and he was definitely not alone. I pointed the gun at the still empty door, trying not to shake too much. The stairs sounded like a struggle. The man was handcuffed and Sherlock had his arm around his neck and dragged him upstairs.  
“Sit down”, he shouted at the man when they stood in front of the chair.  
Of course he didn't what was ask and struggled against Sherlock's grip.  
“Are you going to shoot me?” the man asked me with an arrogant smile on his face. “Look at you, you're so weak you can't even hurt a fly!” He laughed.  
Suddenly the adrenaline rushed through my body and I wanted to punch him so badly. I never felt so violent before.  
“Sit down”, Sherlock demanded again. The man didn't react, he only kept looking at me.  
“You know you've made a mistake in coming here”, he laughed. "The note said it. You won't survive today."  
I looked at Sherlock, who quietly tried to mime something. Lip reading isn't one of my stronger points, but I was pretty sure he said 'bollocks'. He also nodded down. Yes, he wanted me to kick him in the man in his manly bits.  
The guy didn't notice and continued. “Soon they'll be on your doorstep, girl. Nowhere is safe for you, and it is all your own fault. Your miserable little life will soon be over. That's what you get when you mess with the big boys.”  
My anger had risen even more and before I realized it myself, I kicked him in his bollocks without holding back. The man shouted out from the pain and fell on his knees. Sherlock pulled him up and bound him to the chair. To my surprise that kick felt quite liberating. It felt like all the frustrations I had in my life where forgotten temporarily. I was shaking on my feet though and I couldn't think straight.

Sherlock took his gun back and we both sat down on the sofa.  
“Now tell us, who knows she's here?” Sherlock started.  
“Everyone. I have a phone, you know?”  
“No you don't.  
The guy was silent. Sherlock got the phone out of his pocket, he nicked it presumably, and waved around with it. “Pretty dead, I'd say.”  
“Not when I saw her entering.”  
Sherlock did his sideway smile again and went to the kitchen. Two seconds later he came back with a charger. He plugged it in very calmly and sat down again. Everyone was silent while Sherlock played around with the phone.  
“Oh what a surprise, you didn't call anyone today. Nor did you send a text. What a shame.”  
The man didn't answer.  
“But if we let you go, you will tell them anyway. We can't have that.”  
“Are you going to kill me then? That would make a mess, wouldn't it”, the man replied, trying to be witty and looking like he didn't care.  
“No, I'm not going to kill you”, Sherlock replied. “You'll see.”  
Suddenly he stood up and looked at me.  
“I'm continuing my experiments. Will you keep an eye on him?”  
“What? Eh... alright. For how long?”  
Sherlock shrugged and walked to the kitchen.  
Fabulous. I took a deep breath.  
I looked at the man and he stared back at me. He didn't say anything. I felt my heart beat slow down a bit now that guy was tied up and the gun wasn't in my hands anymore. Comfortable wasn't a proper description of the situation either though.

Now what? I got my phone out of my pocket and texted Jonathan that it could take a while before I came home, but that I was alright. To kill the time, I looked around in the room. I took a piece of paper from the sidetable and started reading. It was a scientific paper about drugs and memory loss. I grinned. That's why Sherlock was so eager to drag him in. He's a perfect living subject.  
“If you're bored, you may punch him again if you want to”, Sherlock said from the kitchen.  
“No, I'm not bored really. I'm reading a very interesting scientific article”, I replied while keeping an eye on the guy.  
“If you're finished with that one, I've got some more over here.”

An hour of reading later, I walked into the kitchen. I knew from John's blog that he hardly eats and if you are thirsty, you have to make the tea yourself. My mouth felt like sandpaper, so I could do with a cup of tea. I took the liberty of putting the kettle on without asking and went back to the living room. No reaction from Sherlock.  
Then John came in, I recognized him from the pictures on the internet. So he still lived here too then.  
“What the...”, he stammered and put the shopping in the kitchen.  
“I'm busy, she will explain”, Sherlock said and kept on staring at his bowls, or whatever these chemical pots were called. John looked at me and took a chair. As I expected, he was a kind man. Not like the socially incapable Sherlock, although I have to say it wasn't as bad yet as John's blog sometimes made it out to be.  
John and I had a nice chat and we didn't really concentrate on the man. He was going to forget all the information later anyway. After lunch, Sherlock was done with his syringe. John had to get it in him, he's the doctor after all, and we had to hold the man still.  
“And now we wait”, Sherlock said with his hands in his pockets. “You have to go home though, it won't help if you stay here.”  
I nodded and then pointed my hand forward. “Good luck with everything”, I said.  
Sherlock was a bit surprised, but took my hand and shook it. “And remember, no police.”  
I nodded again. I said goodbye to John and walked out. When I closed the front door behind me, I took a deep breath. It hadn't quite sunk in what just happening. I was free though! No more threats would come from this silly organization. I could continue with my life and I first texted Jonathan if he wanted a coffee to celebrate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise that the 'explicit' action starts in chapter 3 ;)


	3. The experiment & the secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You think he would forget, but Sherlock never lets you go. Suddenly there's a text. And answering Sherlock's texts always lead to surprises...

Jonathan and I celebrated that my life was relatively trouble free again, but I didn't know that this was just the beginning. I never expected Sherlock to suddenly appear again, but on a Saturday evening, about two weeks after my visit, I got a text.  
 _Need you here urgently for an experiment. SH_  
I sighed. I lie underneath my fleece blanket with a cup of tea, watching a rather exciting movie. The last thing I wanted was to go out. It was cold outside and I was tired. Should I ignore it?  
“You're an idiot if you even consider going there”, Jonathan said.  
The sane me indeed wanted to stay out of trouble, but the curious, adventurous me just kept telling me to go. It's only a half an hour journey and I could do with a bit of excitement. Since the last time I met him, I was completely over the fact that I had nearly been kidnapped and that I had threatened a man with a gun and kicked him in his bollocks. It's strange how your mind can adjust to such things. But it scared me more that I was so drawn to Sherlock. He intrigued me.  
After five more minutes of considering, I stood up and went. I just needed to go and Jonathan couldn't stop me.

Half and hour later I stood in Sherlock's living room. He sat in his chair with his hands under his chin and his legs crossed. A small lamp shone a light on his face.  
“You're late”, he said.  
“You can't even get here in 15 minutes if you had a space rocket or something”, I replied with a sigh. I took my coat off and sat down on the sofa. “So, why am I here?”  
“I need another alive subject. John won't do for several reasons.”  
I got suspicious. I didn't really fancy having anything injected into me, like he did to the criminal.  
I swallowed. “Ok, what do you want to do to me?”  
He didn't say anything, he just grinned shortly and got up, walked to the kitchen and got me a cup of tea. He sat down again and looked at me with his intimidating gaze. It was quite uncomfortable.  
“I hope you take more care of yourself than your clothes suggest”, he said, still with that grin on his face.  
He liked this anticipation. I couldn´t say I did. It only made me more suspicious. “In what way?”  
“We are going to have sex tonight, so I hope you shaved at least your legs and armpits. Preferably more.”  
I nearly choked in my tea. What? Did I hear that right?  
I instantly thought about a part from John's blog. 'Love and relationships are not in his dictionary. He hardly cares for the people close to him. He works, that's what he cares about. And he does everything to get what he wants, even if it's completely inappropriate or morally unacceptable.'  
I laughed. “Well, that's where your lucky, because I did that yesterday morning when I had a shower. And a bit more than armpits and legs.” I winked.  
“Good”, was the only thing he said.  
I sipped my tea again and stopped lauging. He was serious. Deadly serious.  
“Why are we having sex? I read you don't do love, so that's not why you want to do it.”  
“Where did you read that?!” he asked with a surprised expression on his face.  
I didn't say anything.  
He sighed. “Oh of course. John. Well, I'm investigating a few cases involving rape. I need to know how long you can find sperm in a vagina after intercourse.”  
“Right. So you want to rape me and then test this daily? Weekly?”  
“Daily.”  
“My god. You are serious, aren't you?”  
“Why wouldn't I be?”  
I put the cup back in its saucer. Sherlock did the same.  
“What if I don't want to?” I said.  
“Fine, walk out if you have to” He smirked.  
Oh god, I did want it. Why was I such a predictable idiot sometimes?  
“Go to my bedroom and undress”, he quietly said.  
My heartbeat raise. This was going way too fast. I wanted to let it sink in. The last time I had sex was many months ago and it wasn't a success. The biggest problem in my love life is that I only like sex when I actually feel for someone and I never meet men I love. How was this fitting in? I actually didn't mind having sex with him, did that mean something? Or was this just curiosity?

I stood up and started walking. My hands became slightly clammy. His bedroom was behind the kitchen. When I opened the door, I found a room that looked hardly used. John´s blog popped into my mind again: Sherlock's the man who never sleeps...  
I started to undress slowly and when I was naked, I stepped in bed. I turned the lights off to make the situation a bit more comfortable. To keep at least some atmosphere in the room, I switched on the small lamp at his bedpost. It took a few minutes before the door opened and Sherlock stepped in.

Nothing was said and I looked at him when he started to undress. My god, underneath those clothes was so much beauty to find. No one I ever shared my bed with even came close to the chest I was looking at right now.  
“Don't stare at me like that”, Sherlock said quietly.  
“Why can't I admire the view? This doesn't happen to me every day.”  
Without any romantic building up action, he took his underpants off and stepped into bed. Slow, but determined, he crawled on top of me and alined the head of his cock with my entrance. I realized he wanted to do this as quickly as possible in order to get on with anything else he was working on, but I wasn't buying it. I put my hand around his already hard cock and I squeezed it.  
“What are you doing?” he said.  
“If you want to have sex with me, we are going to stretch this a little longer than 5 minutes”, I whispered.  
“Why?”  
“It's not a rape.”  
He sighed. “Oh god, you're not one of those women who wants it all to be a meaningful experience or something?”  
I released his cock and took his head in both my hands and kissed him, which took him by surprise. I couldn't tell whether he let the kiss happen out of surprise or because he actually liked it. It felt like the latter, but I wasn´t sure.  
I looked at his face. “You are not telling me that you don't enjoy sex and you only do it because it has to be done for this case?”  
“What I like is non of your business.”  
“What do you like then?”  
“Non. Of. Your. Business.”  
I tried to read his mind, but obviously failed.  
“Come on, why be so mysterious about it?”  
“What did I say? It's non of you business.”  
He got a bit annoyed, but I was curious. What would he like then? Men?  
I took a deep breath and remembered how directly he asked me to have sex with him. Well, asked... it was more like demanded to have sex with him. I had all the right to be just as direct to him as he was to me so I therefore brought his face closer to mine and placed my lips close to his ear.  
“Are you gay?” I whispered.  
His expression changed from slightly annoyed to slightly angry.  
“It's nothing to be ashamed of”, I continued quickly.  
He now started shouting. “You're wrong. And this idiotic chat is the reason why I don't...”  
“Shhh, Sherlock!! I'm sorry I asked, alright?” I shouted back.  
He didn't expect me to interrupt him and he looked puzzled again. About half a minute passed in silence and his gaze softened a bit over time.  
“Calm down”, I whispered. “It was only a question.”  
“It was rude.”  
I grinned. “So you understand the meaning of rude. That's good to know.”  
He didn't reply.  
“I hope you know the meaning of teasing as well. I was only teasing you, Sherlock. If you don't want to tell me what you like, it's fine. Everybody has secrets. But just so you know, I'm not going to judge you. Not on anything. I know by now you're odd, I'm pretty sure hardly anything would surprise me.”  
I took his cock in my hand again and guided him in me.  
“Come on, rape me then”, I whispered.  
He pushed in me, deep and slow. I gasped.  
“I would love to rape you, but I'm not sure if your idea of a rape is the same as mine”, he replied with he mesmerizing dark voice.  
I raised my eyebrows. “Are you already starting to share secrets with me?”  
“Not necessarily.”  
'Yes, you are,' I thought. He was mister dominance. He did like to have power. Suddenly some images flashed in front of me and out of nowhere I realized what this was all about. That was his secret...  
I had my secrets too, but he didn't know that yet. Some single women tend to watch porn too, just like single men. But straightforward porn didn't do it for me. I had watched and read enough to know what I secretly was: a sub.  
I changed the angle of my hips slightly so he could get even deeper in me. He increased his pace and he fucked me hard. I couldn't care less. I grabbed his body tight and one of his strong hands grabbed my shoulder. He let himself go in a way I never thought he could. It was intense. The noises he made were resonating with my sensitive parts and I felt like I was flying away. The contracting muscles when he eventually came brought me back to earth. I didn't come, but I didn't care. The fact that I just had been raped with permission (although it's not exactly a rape then) were enough for me. It felt good. Especially because I knew what he was. And also knew what I was.

Slowly he moved out of me and lie down next to me on his back and pulled the duvet over us. He switched the light off.  
“You're staying here tonight. Tomorrow you take a shower, go to work, just like you always do. Come back here afterwards for the sample.”  
I agreed. The abrupt end to our encounter was slightly awkward and the silence therefore painful. Maybe not in his eyes, but it certainly was in mine. I had to tell him, I just had to. He was the only man I could share my secret fantasies with, maybe this was the only chance in my life. What did I have to loose? The worse he could do was throw me out and never contact me again. Although that idea wasn't pleasing, would he do that? I didn't believe he would.  
“Sherlock, I have to tell you something.”  
“Oh god, you're not in love with me are you?” he sighed.  
“Eh... no. It's something else. I think I know something about you.”  
“And what's that?”  
“You are a dom, aren't you? Or have been at some point. That's what you like and what's non of my business, isn't it?”  
In the dark I couldn't see his reaction, but maybe that said it all. He didn't move at all, he was too shocked to react. I impatiently waited and waited. My hands were getting clammy.  
“You do realize what you just did there?” he mumbled.  
I nodded. “I think I just found out one of your most personal secrets. I'm aware of that”, I whispered.  
“I wish you hadn't done that.”  
“I just added the pieces together, I'm sorry. But it's alright, Sherlock.”  
“No, it's not”, he said and got up with the intention to walk out.  
I raised my voice with the hope to make an impression. “Listen to me. I recognized it, because... Well, I think I'm a sub. I have been fantasizing about it for a while and...”  
He interrupted.  
“You wouldn't like it”, was the only thing he said.  
“How would you know? When you just fucked me, I fantasized how you tied me up and hurt me. Does that mean anything?”  
He stopped moving and there was a moment that time stood still. I held my breath.  
His dark voice filled the room. “Do you know what it means when you're offering yourself to me?”  
“I have a vague idea”, I whispered.  
He turned around and climbed over me. “I'll look for your boundaries. I will find out what makes you scream. I will make you beg to stop.” He started to roll my left nipple between his fingers and his voice competely paralyzed me. “I'll tie you up and abuse you, do you want that?”  
I swallowed. “I do, Sherlock. I do.”  
Suddenly he squeezed my nipples very hard between his fingers and I screamed out. A feeling between pain and pleasure fell over me and every fiber in my body became more sensitive.  
“The next time I won't tolerate screams”, he said with an intimidating gaze.  
His grip wasn't frightening, it was excitement that I felt. I felt save in his hands, no matter what he did to me. This was so strange.  
He again crawled under the duvet. There was no word and no further touch. He just went to sleep.  
I took a deep breath instead and lie awake for hours until I finally managed to lay my mind to rest just enough to fall asleep. My god, what had I done?

After a day of work with a total lack of concentrating, I went straight to Baker Street where John opened the door.  
“Oh, you're back.”  
“Yeah, I'm working with him on an experiment.”  
He looked surprised. “Eh, I didn't know. Well, come in.”  
Of course he didn't know. Sherlock would never have told him this.  
We found Sherlock lying on his back on the sofa with his eyes closed and his hands under his chin, fingertips moving. He was in a trance and didn't reply to my 'hi'.  
“Did you eat?” John asked. I shook my head. John didn't fancy cooking, so we ordered a take away.  
While eating, Sherlock woke up.  
“Why didn't you wake me?!”  
“You weren't wake-able”, John smiled.  
“Rubbish”, he waved away, looking a bit annoyed. Then he pointed a finger at me. “Come with me to the bedroom.”  
“I'm eating”, I struggled to say with a full mouth.  
“You've had enough. The two of you have eaten a take away for four. Come on.”  
He opened the bedroom door and waited for me to get up. John looked at me, he had no idea what was going on. I put my fork down and did as he asked. I walked passed Sherlock and he closed the door right behind me.  
“How thoroughly did you clean, on a scale from 1 to 10?”  
“As thoroughly as I could in the panic after being raped”, I winked. “And that's nearly 10.”  
He turned his back at me and started preparing some tubes and some cotton swabs or something. “Take your trousers off and lie down”, he demanded without turning around.  
Slowly I started to undress myself again and lie down. Sherlock put the swabs and tubes on a small tray, walked up to me and tapped on my knees.  
“Spread”, he said with his demanding voice. He was, as expected, very clinical about it, like he was taking a mud sample from a field. He sat down on his knees behind the bed and looked me straight in my eyes, right over my belly. I lie my head on the mattras and let him do what he was supposed to do. Soon I felt his fingers softly on my downstairs lips.  
“If you hadn't washed it, it would have been washed out by itself, wouldn't it?”  
For a second I had no idea what he was talking about, until he put one of the cotton swabs inside me and wiped it on the dry skin below my belly button. I was very wet.  
“Sorry”, was I all could comment to that. That was embarrassing.  
He got a new swab and started to move in me to get a sample. This wasn't meant to be sexual, I kept on telling myself. He took the sample out and got another swab. Again he poked around and pulled it out. A third went in. When he took it out, he stood up and walked to the cupboard again.  
“You can get dressed now.”  
That was it. I was just an experiment.

A few minutes later John and I sat in the living room, chatting about this and that while Sherlock was fixated on his microscope.  
“Positive!” we suddenly heard from the kitchen and it accompanied a short laugh. He then took his coat and ran downstairs. John and I looked at each other. Typically Sherlock, John told me, but John didn't know what was positive. I did.  
I decided to go home, it was late enough and I had to work the next morning. If Sherlock needed me, he would know where to find me.


	4. Playing Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After revealing his secret, Sherlock is keen to give an introduction. This doesn't go according to plan... What other secrets are there hidden inside his troubled mind?

For more than a week I heard nothing from Sherlock. I nearly thought he wasn't going to contact me anymore. Like he had just forgotten about me or didn't need me anymore. What about the experiment? Well, he probably solved the crime with the information he got. How would I know what he was working on? I didn't know a thing. John sometimes hardly knew and he shared a flat with Sherlock.  
But there it was. A text on Friday evening.  
– I've got something for you. SH  
– What's that? Tina  
– Baker Street. Come at once. Wear that blue dress. SH  
Blue dress? How did he know about that?! I hadn't worn that in ages! Conclusion: the man had broken into my flat.... why didn't it surprise me?  
I sighed. I looked at Jonathan, who was watching a movie with me. I knew he didn't approve, but he didn't know what I felt. Sherlock was a magnet and even if I wanted, I couldn't run away from him. That's at least the explanation I came up with during the nights I couldn't sleep. I couldn't stop thinking about him, about the things he had said to me. His secret. Oh god, I even shared mine. 

Before I went, I refreshed myself a bit. Quick shower, even a bit of make up. I looked in the mirror and grinned. The last time I had been so concerned about my appearance was 6 years back when I met the only man I had ever really loved. I never wore make-up. Absolutely never. I couldn't be bothered for some reason. Then I stood in front of my cupboard. The blue dress what the only nice dress I owned. I bought it for graduation a few months ago. I also blew the dust of the only pair of high heels I owned, but never wore. Bought for the same graduation party. I laughed when I was finished. I didn't even recognized myself when I looked in the mirror.

At Baker Street, Mrs Hudson opened the door and let me in. She whispered that I looked lovely, but I lied when she asked me why.  
My heels made a clicking noise on the old, wooden stairs, something I wasn't used to with my worn allstars. I reminded myself to do this more often. Clicking heels made you feel confident somehow.  
The door to Sherlock's flat was open, but there was no one there and the living room was dark. I closed the door quietly and let my eyes adjust to the dark. I recognized the shapes of the furniture and when I could see enough, I walked to the kitchen. Only a small light was burning at the kitchen table, but there was still no one there.  
“You've made an effort”, I suddenly heard behind me. I startled and turned around. There he was, leaning against the kitchen entrance. I had no idea where he came from.  
“There is one thing no one knows”, he said with an intimidating voice.  
“Which is?”  
“You already know. It's what I like to do when John is out and I'm out of work.”  
I swallowed. To be honest he now frightened me slightly. He slowly walked over to me and put his right hand in my neck. He was so close now and I didn't dare to move. I could feel his warmth and his breathing.  
“I like to play games”, he whispered. “No one knows. Sherlock the a-sexual is all they see. Sherlock, the man who doesn't care. Let them think what they want to think. You shouldn't spent too much time around the lower IQ's, it poisens your mind and your perception of the world. I care, you know. I just don't care for stupid, weak or narrow minded people, which leaves very few. Nor do I like people with too much sentiment. You want to be liked and you want to be good, so I should by all means ignore you, but I know you are pretending. You're pretending to be someone else. Why do you do it, I wonder? It only builds up anger and frustrations. The way you kicked the criminal in his bollocks was convincing. I recognize people like you. The way you usually dress, no desire to stand out of the crowd and confidence a dirty word. But it doesn't mean you're weak. It means you spent your life with the wrong people. You need a push in the right direction. And I knew you would be more beautiful if you made an effort.”  
Suddenly he gave me a deep, intense kiss.  
“You are also more intelligent than you think. I order you to start observing this tomorrow. But for now... I'm going to shut your brain down.”  
Again he kissed me an he ran with his hand up my thigh. I was completely paralyzed by his words. He hit the nail on its head and it was nearly humiliating how well he had observed me. He hardly knew me! Thank god I had refreshed myself a bit, I thought.  
While kissing, he slowly began to walk forward and that led me backwards into his bedroom. When we stood inside, he closed the door. The same small light at this bedpost was shining and he had put a pillow the middle on the head side of the bed. He turned me around and let me face it, while he stood behind me.  
“Put your arms in the air”, he commanded.  
As I did what he said, he took my dress and slowly he lifted it up over my head, exposing my stockings and underwear. He put my dress on a chair and came standing really close behind me. His hands touched my upper arms and he kissed my neck. His long, slender fingers moved towards the locks of my bra and undid it. He let me take it off. He started kissing my neck again and put his arms around me. His warmth cought me and I shivered. Was this really happening? Soon his right hand moved in the direction of my underpants and disappeared in it, softly placing his hand on my clit. I held my breath and placed my hand on his, guiding him to the most sensitive spot.  
“No touching”, he whispered in my ear. He moved my hand away and took my underpants off. I was now completely naked, except for my stockings and shoes.  
He put his hands on my shoulders again, this time a tighter grip. “Of course I know you haven't done this before so tonight is an introduction. Safeword is John”.  
“Nice choice”, I smiled.  
“Lie down on your back with your head on the pillow.”  
I kicked off my shoes and lie down. He demanded to close my eyes and I shivered. It was from excitement, and maybe a little fear, because I had no idea what he would do to me. What would be an introduction in his eyes? What was in that drawer he opened? 

Suddenly the mattrass moved and I felt he was hanging over me. It was completely silent for a moment and it was hard not to peep through my eyelids. I startled a bit when the lifted my head and put a blindfold over my eyes. This was it. It had started. I noticed he went back to his drawer. He was definitely going to tie me up, that was for sure. Question was: how?

This was what a soon found out. He bound both my wrists with leather straps to the bedposts and my arms were spread wide. I tried the bonds and I couldn't move an inch.  
“This is exactly where I want you”, he whispered. He gave me a short kiss and then started to make his way down. I didn't meant to do it, but I already started to make awkward noises. Sherlock knew how sensitive my nipples were after he tested them that first night and that was exactly what he was after. First he treated my breasts by squeezing them hard. I already gasped and tried to control my breathing, but failed miserably. My mind hadn't yet found it's right setting. I fought against the restraints while Sherlock was watching me with a smirk on his face. I could hear him grin.  
“You can't escape, even how hard you try.”  
With a flat hand he hit me right on my belly, hard enough to leave his hand print on my flesh. I shouted out this time. Slowly I was losing it.

His footsteps gave away the fact that he walked around the bed. He then leaned over me, I could hear his breathing come closer. When you're blindfolded, you hear things so much better I noticed. He was holding something as well. It was something metal-ish. With his left hand he started to massage my nipples again, at first with a sensitive touch. It felt so nice, but it couldn´t stay this way, I knew that. He did stretch the nicities longer than I expected. He started to kiss me again and moved his left hand from my nipples further downstairs and softly moved over my clit with his middle finger. I was getting very wet, very quickly. That fantastic tickling sensation spread all over my body and I moaned. But then, without warning, he stopped with everything and put a tight clam on both my nipples. I wanted to shout out, but Sherlock put his right hand very tight over my mouth.  
“We don't want anyone to hear us, don't you?” he whispered with the smirk back on his face again. I tried to nod, but he didn't give me any chance. The pain and the tight grip were paralyzing. My thoughts were floating anywhere and I realized he owned me completely. And I wasn't complaining. This was different to everything else I felt before. It was scary, but pleasure overcrowded it. This was what I had been fantasizing about. And yes, it was good.

As Sherlock started to play around with the clams on my nipples, the pain instantly turned to pleasure. I arched my back, but Sherlock pushed me down with his strong hands.  
“You want to please me, don't you?” he said with his hand still on me.  
“Yes, Sherlock”, I answered eagerly, not knowing though what was to come. When his hand disappeared, I missed the touch immediately. He moved away and I tried to guess what he was up too. I thought I heard him take his clothes off, I thought I heard him pick up things from the cupboard. I thought a lot, but nothing was certain. He was as quiet as a mouse. It didn't prepare for what was coming, not in the least. 

Out of nowhere there was a hard hit just below my belly button, and it send a sting of pain through my whole body. I couldn't help but shout.  
“No, no, no, don't shout. Be a good girl and be quiet”, he demanded, while stroking with some sort of leather stick over my lips. The taste remained when he took it away. Must be a riding crop or something, I thought. “Remember. No shouting.”  
I tried to remember, but that was a lot more difficult then he made it sound. A second slap hit me on the left side of my belly button. I held my breath this time and closed my eyes until tears tried to escape. My breathing was uncontrolable.  
“Good girl”, I heard him say, but he sounded far away. He was however still close, because a third hit came. I think even my heart skipped a beat when that pain shot through my body. I forced to keep my mouth shut, but still noises escaped. Again the leather taste returned as he stroke with the riding crop over my lips, down towards the clams at my nipples. A soft hit on both of them was enough to let my brain shut down completely. Every inch of my flesh now tickled, even without a touch, and I needed to move, but I couldn't. 

Then the stroke of the riding crop appeared at the inside of my knee. I gasped at the new sensation, he indeed had me where he wanted: In a trance.  
“I'm going to make you beg”, he said as he moved closer to my most sensitive regions. “You have never begged for something before, but you will soon understand what I mean.”  
Then he was gone. Where did the touch go? 

I heard the drawer of the cupboard again. The silence was unbearable, because I couldn't see what he was up to. I prepared myself for another hit, like he did before, but it didn't come. What he did instead was grabbing my right ankle. In a reaction I tried to pull it away, but of course I couldn't. There was rope around my leg suddenly and the other side of it was attached to the bed. He did the same to my left ankle. When I tried the restraints, I realized he left me some space, but not enough to close my legs together. This was even more frustrating than having them bound without possibilities to move.  
“Now I can have a go at those tight holes of yours”, he whispered in my ear. It startled me, I didn't expect him to be so close. “And yes, I said holes”, he continued. “More than one, and maybe even more than two. I think I like you mouth around me as well. Would you like that?”  
“Ye... Yes, Sherlock”, I stammered.  
“Good. I think I'll start at the tightest of all. See if we can stretch that up a bit.”  
I could hear the lid of a tube clicking and that made be extremely nervous. I hadn't had good anal experiences before and I couldn't think how this would be different from the other times. Although lube helped, that was for sure. 

I waited for him to start, but he let me drown in my anticipation first. I heard the drawer again. Never would that noise be the same to me after this, I thought. And then there suddenly was his right hand on my left thigh. Finally the touch was back. And the touch was teasing. He softly squeezed and he slowly moved towards my clit. He also leaned over me and licked the bruises on my belly. That wasn't too bad, I thought. But he learned me not to think that by making a very clear statement. He bit the skin on my belly and left teeth marking in my skin. Of course it hurt and my hands turned into white knuckle fists.  
“What's wrong? Am I hurting you? You should learn to control yourself”, his dark voice commanded as he continued biting my flesh and touching my nipples. I made awkward noises again. In all the commotion I hadn't noticed that his right hand reached my arse and had started playing. So that was the nice feeling I felt through the pain. With ease he moved a finger in me and soon a second one followed. The lube did its job perfectly. I tried to relax, because this was not as bad as I imagined. He build it up very slowly and when he brougth his left hand up to play with my clit, he found out he could open me with much more ease. Another finger went in. I was now in heaven.  
His hand left me shortly and the touch that returned was cold and wet. He tried to push it in, but it was larger than the three fingers he had in me before. With both his hands he stretch me more and I gasped. The feeling was not only pain, it was mainly pleasure. A strange sort of pleasure. Slowly he pushed further. I groaned and tried to move my legs, but with his arm underneath my right leg, I couldn't move an inch. He pushed until the plug was in place and it filled me, it really filled me.  
He leaned over and helt his face close to my ear again: “So how does that feel, hm?”  
“Full”, I whispered.  
“That's the point exactly. And I will fill you more.”  
He had his fingers on the plug and played with it. “Now what shall I fill next?” he teased.  
He stood up and I heard him walk around again. It wasn't the only thing that he did. He took his clothes off. I already thought he did that earlier, but this time I was sure. He dropped his belt on the floor and I heard him undo the buttons of his shirt.  
He stepped onto the bed and came sitting on top of me. He placed his hands next to my head which made his presence terrifying, without being able to see him. He took my underlip between his teeth and bit it softly.  
“I think I'm going to fill your mouth next”, he whispered.  
He moved his knees further towards my armpits. He was completely naked and I could feel his hard member brushing against my chin. He did it on purpose. To let me feel it. He did it again and again. I wanted nothing more than to please him and when he placed the head of his cock against my lips, I eagerly started licking. I felt him become even harder by the touch. I worked my tongue around his head and I wanted to taste more. He started to breath hard and, probably unconsciencely, pushed his knees harder into the side of my chest. The position was uncomfortable and my neck muscles hurt as soon as I tried to slide his cock in my mouth, but I didn't mind. At this stage I hardly felt pain anyway.  
“Yes, suck me”, he whispered from above my head as he positioned himself better. He pressed his cock down in my mouth, but I could hardly keep my head upright. He noticed. “Come on”, he demanded while grabbed my hair and guided me. “Suck me.”  
He pushed in slowly at first, his right hand behind my head. Every stroke just a little further, until he gagged me. I coughed and gasped for air. He took his cock out and rested it on my chin again. It didn't feel particularly nice, but I got used to being handled like that and even here I noticed that pain and discomfort equalled pleasure. He indeed had shut my brain down. Soon, without mercy, he pushed in again, faster and faster, and I heard him groan. The taste of pre-come entered my mouth and he gripped my hair tighter. He was about to shut his own brain down, but just before he came, he released my hair and my head dropped on the pillow. He let his cock rest on my chin again and breathed heavily above me. A drop of sweat dropped from his face on my neck and it itched. He put his hand in my hair again and slowly moved his cock over my lips. Every stroke I licked it. There was a moment of rest where he was trying to catch his breath. And I happily made use of the situation by catch mine.

However, it was quiet for far too long. He moved his cock away from my chin, but was still leaning over me. There was no movement, from neither of us. My mind slowly came back to reality which caused an itchy sort of feeling to appear everywhere. He definitely had his breath back by now, but he didn't continue with his games. What was he up to?  
Then he did something I didn't expect. The hand he still had in my hair moved towards my forehead and he slowly moved the blindfold away from my eyes. For the first time I could see him towering over me like a large majestic statue. It was a pretty sight. The outlines of his beautiful body were visible due to the small lamp light above his bed. I stared at him, he stared back. It was as if the time stood still again for a moment. His eyes didn't let me go. I wasn't sure what his expression meant. It was strange. I hadn't seen it before. Even when he started moving his hands towards the bonds at my right wrist, he never lost my gaze. To my surprise he untied my wrist and then stood up to untie the other. I didn't dare to say anything and he didn't spoke a word either. He untied my legs too and I was paralyzed by the sudden change to freedom. What was he up to?! Did he have something else up his sleeve??

My shoulders hurt and I slowly gave my joints their feeling back. That moment I realized I still had the plug in me. He still owned me and I didn't want to be disowned to be honest, my mind wouldn't let me. I hoped he got something new out of the drawer and tie me up again, but he closed the drawer instead and placed his hands on the cupboard. He lowered his head and sighed. I didn't understand what was happening and it frightened me.  
“What's wrong, Sherlock?” I whispered with hesitation.  
There was no answer and he didn't move. I didn't know whether he was about to burst into tears, commit suicide or get violent towards me.  
“Sherlock?” I tried again.  
Nothing.  
I got the plug out. I wish he had done it instead and then fucked me, but it wasn't meant to be. Play time was over apparently and I felt a bit angry towards him. Why did he do this? God, my thoughts were still floating everywhere. I eagerly waited a few minutes for something to happen, but he just stood there. I couldn't see his face in the dimmed light, but his body language said he looked lost.  
I climbed out of bed and put the plug next to him on the cupboard. There was still no reaction. He just stood there, trying to control his breathing. Carefully I put my arm on his bare back.  
“Come on. Lie down with me”, I whispered.  
Still there was no answer.  
I put his arm firm around his waist and dragged him away from the cupboard, back to the bed. I couldn't help but sigh from relieve when he didn't push me out of the way and walk out with big strides. Still without a word he crawled under the duvet, but didn't want to face me. I had no choice than to talk to the back of his head.  
“Talk to me”, I started. “Please.”  
“Leave me alone. Go home”, he moaned.  
“But why? What have I done?”  
He was silent.  
I put my hand on his shoulder and he wanted to move it away, but I kept it there. When he stopped resisting, I crawled near to him. I moved my hand from his shoulder to his waist and put my arm around him. My breasts were touching his warm back, our legs strangled and I lay my head in his neck. I more or less hugged him.  
“You are not regretting it, are you?” I whispered.  
Still nothing. The clock was ticking the seconds away and my patience was running out.  
“Please talk to me. I hate guessing.”  
“You have shown to be reasonably good at it”, he moaned.  
Suddenly he took my right hand and interweaved the fingers of his hand with mine. What did that mean? I decided to hug him a bit tighter in return.  
“This is beyond my guessing skills, Sherlock.”

Again a pause. I felt the movement of his fingers over mine. He was stroking every inch of my hand. The touch was light and caring. Not even five minutes ago he had them tied up, I thought.  
“Even your fingers are of equal length”, he whispered with a crack in his voice.  
“In comparison to who?” I whispered back.  
“Guess.”  
Who was he talking about? Equal length fingers? Who could be so special to him to turn his state of mind 180 degrees in a matter of seconds. And why did it happen when he looked at me? Did I remind him of someone? With the same length fingers? Someone he once played his games with? Did something go wrong at some point with that person for which he still blamed himself? Or was it something else? I frowned my eyebrows and my eyes grew. Om my god. He didn't do love according to John, but what if he once had loved someone? Someone looking like me? What if he moved the blindfold away and imagining her face in front of him again. Oh my god Sherlock, what secrets are you hiding?  
“What was her name?” I whispered.  
“Alexandra”, he replied. My guess was right then. I just discovered another secret.  
“How low ago was this?”  
“I was your ago, about 24.”  
“What happened to her?”  
To my surprise he started explaining. “She came to me with a story about a murder. A friend of her was a witness, but the police didn't believe her. I investigated the murder, it was one of my first major cases and I didn't have the resources I have now. I had to go to great lengths to get the evidence that two police officers where involved with the murder. It was dangerous. Two months into the investigation, I had to hide away with her. Women usually drive me out of my mind, but I never met anyone like her. However, a week later she was shot by the murderers we were after.”  
I swallowed. “And she looked like me.”  
“In many ways.”  
“And that moment you decided never to love again.”  
“That moment I decided work was the only stable and satisfying factor in my life.”  
“So you concentrated on that.”  
“Yes.”  
“And you never met someone again?”  
“No. And I wasn't looking. I can manage on my own.”  
“And you did all this bondage stuff with her?”  
“No.”  
“So that's why you panicked...”, I slowly said.  
There was a pause before he whispered: “From the beginning I tried to suppress the feeling, but I can't do this with you.”  
“It doesn't matter, Sherlock. It doesn't matter.”  
I squeezed him even closer to me.  
“Tell me about her. Why was she special?”  
“I can't”, he whispered. The emotion was clearly sounding through his words. This wasn't the Sherlock I knew or I had described to me by several people. It felt I had broken him and I felt a sudden guilt feeling fallen over me.  
“Let's sleep.”  
“Hmm”, was all I heard from him. I took that as a yes.


	5. Suddenly I'm a hitman...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After that unexpected night, Sherlock's feelings take him over and he needs distraction. Luckily for him, a terrorist attack is planned on King's Cross and he drags Tina into his plan to stop it from happening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter doesn't include anything sex related... I told you it's a rewritten version of my 160 page fic. That fic also had a story line outside the bedroom in it, so I thought I sort of keep it XD Next chapter will have bedroom action, I promise.

When I woke up it was half past six in the morning and I was lying on my other side and Sherlock was gone. I hadn't even noticed he had left. The plug on the cupboard was also gone. I decided not to get up, but bury myself in the duvet again. It had Sherlock's smell all over. 

At seven thirty I've had enough of the lonely bed. I put my clothes on and opened the bedroom door. What I found was an empty apartment. Sherlock wasn't there, John still wasn't home and there was no note or text message where they were. So, to stay or not to stay? I looked out of the window and my decision wasn't difficult. The rain was pouring down. Time for a warm shower then.

After a shower and a long lonely breakfast, I heard the front door. He said something to Mrs Hudson. The voice was clearly Sherlock, not John. Within a few steps he was in the apartment, but he startled when he saw I was still there. I was shocked by his appearance.   
“Why didn't you go home?” he said.  
“Do you think I'm going to walk to the tube in the pouring rain?”  
“Take a taxi home.”  
“Are you paying?”  
There was no answer. He sighed and turned around to face the window. He could have said yes to get rid of me, but he didn't.  
“You haven't taken a taxi, I presume.”  
He breathed out and he still looked as unstable as he was yesterday. “Where have you been, Sherlock?” I softly said.  
When there came no answer I walked towards the bathroom to get a towel for him. He was soaking wet and his trousers where smudged with mud. Drops of water fell from his hair onto his shoulders and a puddle started to form next to his shoes. I put the towel over his shoulders and stood next to him.   
“Does this have to do with Alexandra?” I whispered.  
He dried his face with the towel and ruffled his hair. Then he took his wallet out of his pocket and he was clearly searching for something. When he found it, he gave it to me. It was a picture of a woman. Immediately my jaw dropped. I saw the resemblance, it was uncanning. Same posture, same hair colour, same style of clothes, same eyes, same nose too. And roughly the same age.   
“My god, I see what you mean.”  
I suddenly realized where he went to that morning.  
“Did you go to the place where she was murdered?”  
He shook his head. “I went to her grave.”  
I swallowed and gave him the picture back. That was even worse. That mud on his knees came from kneeling down in front of it probably. How bad is your state of mind when you do that in the early morning in the pouring rain?  
“So, do you go there often?” I asked with hesitation.  
“I've never been there.”  
“Really? You didn't go to her funeral?”  
“No.”  
“Why?”  
“Why do you think?”  
I smiled politely. Of course. He had ran away from his emotions.  
“So you went there now, because the memory came back.” I felt that unpleasent guilty feeling coming back. “I'm so sorry, Sherlock.”  
He stretched his back and sighed. “Enough of this. I want you do to something for me.”  
That usually didn't mean much good. I blinked a few times with my eyes and braced myself.  
“I want you to help me with a case.”  
“What case?”  
“A terrorist attack.”  
I shook me head and sighed. “Of course. No surprise. So what attack is this?”  
“Monday afternoon a bomb will be planted on the roof of King's Cross. John and I will go after him. If we don't manage to catch him on the ground, you will shoot him from a nearby tower when he's about to plant the bomb on the roof.”  
My jaw dropped. “Sherlock, you can't mean this.”  
He was however dead serious and his intimidating gaze found mine. I was just paralyzed.  
“I never shot a gun in my life! Where do you need me for?”  
“You'll come with me and I'll show you why. Be ready 15 minutes, but no bathroom, that one's mine.”  
He turned around and went straight to the bathroom with his towel, leaving me to shocked to move.

Fifteen minutes later we sat in a taxi. The shower had done him good and he was his old confident grumpy self again. His wet dog smell had also changed to something much better. It was clear he didn't want to talk about feelings anymore. And I was happy about it. He was frightening when he looked lost.   
“Where are we going?”  
“You'll see”, he said with a smirk. He liked this, the bastard.  
I sighed. I decided to look out of the window for the rest of the journey.  
Five minutes later he broke the silence.   
“Why are you not asking questions like a normal human being?”  
“What's the point? You're not giving me answers.”  
“Aren't you curious?”  
“What do you think? Of course I'm curious.”  
“You're only asking the wrong questions.”  
I looked at him. What was he on about?   
“So you are going to answer me what the plan is?”  
“You already know.”  
“Ok, I have to shoot a terrorist. And then what? If I miss, King's Cross will be blown up, if I hit, I have to face a life sentence for killing someone.”  
“The first part is right, the second part isn't. This is an authorized shooting, the police and I had a little negotiation and I won. As usual.”  
I started laughing, more from nerves then from his explanaition. “And you are asking me? Come on, you know plenty of people who can do the job much better than I can.”  
“Why would I ask someone who demands something equal in return?”  
“Right.” That was one way of looking at it.  
The taxi stopped and I curiously looked outside. I laughed when I saw the sign. Of course, he had brought me to a shooting centre. 

The shooting centre was owned by a guy Sherlock knew. Dave. That’s a proper name for a dude owning a shooting centre.  
“You’ve brought a young woman?” he laughed. “I expected a bloke!”  
Sherlock’s face stayed straight. “This is Tina.”  
“So you are the unfortunate one”, he said when he shook my hand.  
“Unfortunate? Oh god, is there something I don’t know yet?”   
“No, just in general”, he winked. “Do you have any shooting experience?”  
“No.”  
He paused. “Oh.” His expression changed. “I thought this was just a bit of extra practise.”  
“But it is”, Sherlock said quickly. “Let’s get on shall we?”   
We walked to the shooting lanes first and Dave got me a handgun.   
“Held one of those before?”  
I nodded. “I held one. But that's about it.”  
“Well, there’s the target”, he said, pointing in the distance where a massive piece of cardboard hang.   
“Hmm. I might need some practise”, I said when I walked to my dot on the floor. My heart beat raise and I took a deep breath. I pointed the gun at the target and closed one eye. I tried not to shake too much with my hands and I focussed deeply. With confidence I pulled the trigger for the first time and the loud bang shocked me. Even with headphones it was a massive bang. I eagerly looked at the result though. It was two lines from the target dot and it disappointed me a bit.  
“That was rubbish”, I said.  
“Try to keep the gun a little higher”, Dave said. “And it helps to position your feet a little further from each other for stability.”  
So I tried. I took position and aimed. I took my time again and held the gun tight. I shot.  
“Good”, I heard Sherlock behind me. I quickly looked at it and it was very close to the target. I smiled. I wanted to try again to see if I could do it twice. I just had to concentrate, but shot much faster this time. And I did it.  
“Good shot”, I heard again, this time from the guy. “You should try some moving targets.”  
“Already?”  
“Of course.”  
He pressed some buttons and a rail with small circles started moving. “There you go.”  
I sighed. This was harder. I pointed the gun straight ahead first and then chose a circle to follow. I didn’t shoot, it wasn’t right. I tried again and I was more sure this time. I was right. I hit it. I immediately tried again, but failed. “Focus”, I said to myself. That’s all I needed to do. Focus. When I did that, it went well and I impressed them. This was fun!  
“See”, Sherlock said when I gave the gun back to Dave to reload.  
“Now try to hit them faster”, Dave said. He also increased the speed of the circles slightly. I looked at the circles and needed to find a pattern in my shooting. I raised the gun again and without shooting I followed a few. I needed a rhythm. I held my breath and I hit the first, missed the second and third, but hit the rest up to 11. I breathed out.  
“I underestimated you”, Dave said.  
“Of course you did”, Sherlock immediately answered. “I don’t choose people for nothing. Let’s get you outside.”  
“Outside?” I said.  
“That’s where the snipers are. You can’t build a building large enough for proper sniper training.”

Not so much later I found myself lying on the grass with a small sniper rifle in my hands. It was huge in my eyes and I felt like a child in a candy shop for some reason. This shouldn't be so much fun.   
“The target is a 150 yards away. Good luck”, Dave said.  
I aimed again and I tried not to shake too much. I took my time. I was disappointed when I shot.  
“That’s just not possible!” I yelled at no one in particular.   
Dave reloaded it for me and I aimed again. Again the shot was way off. “What? That can't be. Is this thing what's it called... calibrated?”  
“Probably not”, Sherlock said. He kneeled down next to me to reload. Then he explained in his own clear words how I should calibrate it. No nonsense. He stepped back again and put his hands in his pockets. It took me a while before I thought I had it fine tuned. Then I tried again.  
“It’s a lot closer”, the guy said while looking through his binoculars.  
“Not there yet though”, I said. I tweaked it a little further and tried again.  
“Bull’s eye”, Sherlock whispered.   
I saw a proud face and a proud Sherlock made my life complete. I suddenly realized I had this strong urge for Sherlock to be proud of me. I didn’t want to let his faith in me down.   
“Try to shoot the beer can to the left”, Dave said. I changed the position of the gun slightly and lie down again. I moved and moved until I was satisfied and then I shot. The bullet caused the can to jump up and fall down on the ground.  
“That was all I needed to know”, Sherlock said to Dave. “I told you it wouldn’t take long.”  
“I can’t understand where you find them.”  
“That’s it?” I interrupted. “I was just starting to enjoy myself.”  
“Yeah, sorry”, Dave said.  
I got up, brushed the grass of my jacket and joined them. Sherlock started talking about ammunition, which he apparently always bought of him.   
“If this was your first time, you didn’t look frightened,” Dave laughed at me. “Usually women ain’t too keen on the guns. It’s too noisy, too scary.”  
“Not all women are like that. I like a bit of excitement”, I smiled.  
“You must do, with him around”, he said as he pointed at Sherlock. “That guy once asked me to help him with a case of some sort and that evening I was nearly shot by some Russian maniac. I’m never doing anything for him ever again”, he laughed out loud.  
I smiled out of politeness. Sherlock didn't. It was definitely time to get out.

I couldn't stop smiling when we sat in the taxi.  
“How did you know, Sherlock? Seriously, how did you know?”  
He shrugged. “Tomorrow you go back to Dave, shoot a few more, take the gun home and Monday you'll make sure you have a warm coat with you because it's cold up there.”  
“Are you coming tomorrow?”  
“Absolutely not.”  
I laughed. “You don't like him, do you?”  
“No. He's just temporarily necessary.”  
We were quiet for the remainder of the journey back to Baker Street. We walked inside and got ourselves a cup of tea. Not that there was anything fun about that. Sherlock started to read and soon was unapproachable. I sighed. Brilliant.   
I stared at him for a long time with the tea in my hands. How could he concentrate so hard?   
Fifteen minutes of staring later, I'd had enough. I stood up and got my coat.   
“Bye, Sherlock. I'll see you tomorrow.”  
No answer. Typical.


	6. A Push in the Right Direction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The way Sherlock expresses he cares....

Monday came and I hadn’t slept all night. I drank a few strong coffees in the morning and angrily paced up and down my own living room until I was fed up with Jonathan. He had told me exactly 78 times how much of an idiot I was, getting involved in this, and I was fed up with him. No matter how worried I was about failing, I didn’t see this experience as being bad for me. I felt like rolling into a world which made more sense to me than everything I had done in my life so far. I had to agree with Sherlock that this was much more interesting than finding a boring office job, which I ought to be doing right now according to a lot of people. I understood Sherlock. I understood his behaviour. I understood why he was such a pain in the arse to everyone. He seemed to understand me too. To see through the person I pretended to be. It was true that I was such a different person when I was with him and this different person, that probably no one would like, was the real me. And that is exactly what I shouted at Jonathan when I walked out of the room, slamming the door behind me. 

The moment came where I sat on the top of a building with my sniper rifle aiming at the rooftop of King’s Cross station.   
“We can’t get him here. Too busy. Shoot him in the leg when he’s on the roof”, I heard through my walky-talky.  
“When can I expect him?” I replied.  
“One minute. I’ll count done the last five seconds.”

The minute seemed to take ages. For the last time I stretched my hand and took a deep breath. I was ready.

When I heard Sherlock’s voice counting down, I looked through the rifle scope and saw the man climb the roof with a small handbag. Don’t screw this up, I kept saying to myself and I didn’t dare to breath. When the guy stood still for a second, I took my chance. I aimed and shot.

I didn’t dare to look and just got my walky-talky.  
“And?”  
“He’s down. Well done”, John said.  
The relieve nearly made me pass out.  
“Get of the building fast before the streets are crowded. Take a cab to Baker Street. Go now!”  
This was Sherlock talking. He was right. The last thing I wanted was to be seen with my gun by an entire crowd. Lucky there was a car waiting for me, but I had to hurry.

Back in Baker Street, Mrs Hudson let me in and I found the door of Sherlock’s apartment unlocked. I took the liberty of taking a shower to calm myself down. This day had been extraordinary and a possibly a little addictive, simply due to the rush that it gave me. I always liked the more thrill seeking activities, like racing, scary rollercoasters, bungee jumping... and these adventures gave me the same adrenaline induced feeling. And Sherlock was right about me and guns: I would enjoy shooting, even with the target being a living person… What had I become?

I fell on the sofa with Sherlock’s blue dressing gown on. I assumed he wouldn’t mind and if he would, I’d give it back immediately which as a consequence would leave me naked. The choice was up to him. I turned on the TV and waited for the answer. It came about an hour later.  
“You took your time”, I said when Sherlock and John entered the living room.  
“Lestrade was being difficult”, was all Sherlock said as he walked to the kitchen to get a glass of water.  
“What was wrong?”  
“Oh nothing major”, John whispered.  
I saw Sherlock taking the gun and walked out without saying anything.  
“I see you took a shower”, John said to distract me.  
I looked at him with suspicion. “Yes? What’s wrong about that?”  
“No, good. It’s good.”  
He now looked at me like he was looking for something.  
“What’s going on John?”  
“Did you leave any traces that could lead you to this shooting?”  
“Eh… well Jonathan knew. And my clothes are there. And texts between Sherlock and me.”  
“What’s Jonathan’s phone number?”  
“What’s this about?” I asked again.  
“Later please. I need the phone number.”  
I gave it to him, but I didn’t like the atmosphere. There was something wrong. Sherlock had said to me that this was an authorized shooting, but by the sounds of it, this had been a lie to trick me into doing this. Why would Sherlock do that? This meant that the police were now looking for me.

Sherlock took the gun to get rid of it, John was now on the phone threatening Jonathan to keep his mouth shut and I possibly had to burn my clothes.  
“John?” I started when he ended the phone call. “This wasn’t authorized, was it?”  
“No. It wasn’t. And I swear I didn’t know! Lestrade heard the gunshot which was clearly not coming from us and immediately started asking questions. Sherlock dragged Lestrade towards him and tried to shut him up, but Lestrade didn’t change his mind.”  
“Oh fabulous”, I sighed. Suddenly all the stories from John’s blog started to make sense. This is what Sherlock does. He never cares about other people’s feelings when he is working. In his mind this lie was helping the case, not for a second had he thought about how it would make me feel. He probably didn't realize his plan could backfire. I was getting more angry by the minute. I thought I knew Sherlock a little by now, but I didn't. Not at all. I could only hope no one reported me as being suspicious, because if they had, I would now be on a wanted-list...

Half an hour later I was still sitting on the sofa with my thoughts, with John frantically washing my clothes in the bathroom.  
I got up and joined him.  
“Don’t I need an alibi?”  
“You were with Jonathan. You were having a lovely day in, doing a movie marathon or something.”  
“I see. Jonathan will kill me when I get home.”  
“And that’s exactly why Sherlock’s going to give you a proposition later on.”  
“A proposition?”  
“Ask him.”  
I stared at him. John was covered in mystery today and was clearly just as annoyed by Sherlock as I was. He felt betrayed too. 

Sherlock came home when John and I ordered a take away.  
“We’ve got to talk”, I said as soon as he walked in.  
“I know you’re angry, but they’ll never get to you so it’s irrelevant.”  
“You bet I’m angry. I trusted you and you lied. And now I’m wanted for shooting someone. Thanks a bunch”  
With his hands in his pockets and an air of calm around him, he came sitting next to me on the sofa. I boiled on the inside and wanted to slap him, but I held back.  
“How could you do this?”  
He smiled. “You are wearing my dressing gown”, was the only thing he said.  
It made me even more angry.  
“I’ll burn it if you don’t explain to me why you lied.”  
“Come on, we stopped a terrorist from planting a bomb! That’s why.”  
“You could have just told me the truth!”  
“And risk you walking away, leaving me with the excruciation task to find someone else within a day? No, thank you.”  
“I’m not indispensable.”  
“Yes, you are.”  
“Liar.”

There fell a silence. I read in his expression that he had no idea why I was making a fuss. I could only shake my head and try to accept that discussions with Sherlock were pointless. Maybe I had to focus on asking why he did what he did. Maybe I could learn something about his trail of thought for future situations... I took a deep breath and met Sherlock's gaze.

“Why on earth are you so calm?”, I said.  
He avoided my question and instead said: “Remember what I told you a week ago.”  
I shrugged. “You said many things.”  
“I said I cared. And I said you need a push in the right direction.”  
“And how does this fit in, if I may ask?”  
“This lie made you less worried about the shooting and therefore improved you performance. I took the precautions to not get you linked to the shooting if Lestrade wouldn’t be on my side on this one. And that’s exactly what happened.”  
“So encouraging me to shoot someone is a push in the good direction?”  
“You don't get the point, do you?”

Again there fell a silence and this time we stared at each other. The stare paralysed me made me realize I was being an idiot. I indeed made a fuss about nothing. Or at least, I my situation. I would never be a suitable person for a normal career, it wouldn't make me happy. Similar to settling down and starting a family, it just isn't my cup of tea. Sherlock knew I craved to be free and that I needed a thrill.

My anger lessened and I looked down. I couldn't hold back a smile. I couldn’t blame him for caring, but the way he tricked me still hurt. He had managed to make me feel ok with shooting someone without authorization, which is equal to being ok with attempted murder. If this is how he works, I had to step up and try to see through his mind games in the future.  
“How can I trust you are telling the truth next time?”  
“You can't. But keep in mind that that is a logical explanation behind all my actions. And with that being said, I'm off.”  
He stood up.   
“Where are you going?” I asked, but he was gone before I finished the sentence.  
“Come with me”, he shouted from the staircase.  
I sighed. As I followed him downstairs, I could see a hint of excitement in his walk. In Sherlock's dictionary, excitement could mean a several things. Good or bad. 

“Here we are”, he said when we stood in front of a door. I hadn’t seen it before. “Step inside.”  
The door squeaked when I opened it and all I saw was stairs. I descended the stairs and arrived in a dark room which didn’t look appealing. It smelt horrible too.  
“What’s this?”  
“In two weeks’ time, this is turned into a charming basement flat. You came to London to change your life and you want a new flat, and here I am, offering you both. Mrs Hudson gave her blessing.”

I started laughing for no apparent reason. Sherlock frowned his eyebrows.   
“You are offering me this flat?! How am I ever able to afford a basement flat in the central London, Sherlock? Seriously, I earn close to nothing and I can hardly pay my crappy shared flat.”  
“You’ll get a special price.”  
I was still quite amused and didn’t really take it seriously. “A special price?”  
“You’ll pay less than what you pay now.”  
He was deadly serious.  
“Less? And what do I have to do in return? Being tricked into more situations like today?”  
“Not unless you want to.”  
I grinned “You know me too well already…”  
“You’re not bound to anything. You can walk away at any given moment, just like you could have done these last weeks.”  
I looked at him and tried to read his face. He looked a bit embarrassed, like he was forced to offer me the flat. I didn't buy it. He was more likely embarrassed, because he was doing something nice for a change. He met my gaze and I saw him biting his lip.  
“Please take the offer”, he whispered now.


	7. An Unexpected evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock feels guilty and doesn't want to give up...

And again it was quiet. I had a few days to get my breath back and time to think. Every night when I lie in bed, I couldn't help but thinking about him. I should have been angry, but I wasn't. I constantly got these visions of how he sat there at that grave, on his knees in the mud. There was no other way he could have got those smudges on his trousers. I was wondering how long he had been there or if he had cried. He clearly lost it that morning, which was frightening. But on the other had there was this fearless and focussed man. And how did he know I could, and would agree to, shoot a terrorist of a rooftop?! He was so mysterious, intimidating and above all beautiful in some way, and I couldn't help feeling drawn to him. And now I had to decide whether I wanted the flat and live close to him. What would happen then? Would I work with them? Would Sherlock and I become much closer? 

He said he was going to keep in touch, so day after day I waited for him to contact me. And he didn't disappoint. On Friday, in the late afternoon, he send me a text.  
Be ready at 7pm. Wear the dress. SH  
Jonathan wanted to shake me until I changed my mind. I hadn't even told him about the flat offer... However, his monologue about Sherlock entered one ear, but as quick as that came out of the other. I just walked to the bathroom and took a shower. If Sherlock wanted the dress, I'd better be prepared.

At exactly 7pm, the doorbell rang. With excitement I opened the door, expecting Sherlock to be there. Instead, a huge bold guy in tattoos and a silly moustache made his appearance.  
“You Tina?”  
“Eh, yes.”  
“Mr Holmes asked me to pick you up.”  
For a brief moment I wondered whether this was another kidnap attempt in disguise, but I decided to walk with the man towards his car. As a real gentleman, he opened the door for me and asked if I was comfortable.  
“Where are we going?”  
“I'm sworn to secrecy.”  
Of course he was. 

London passed by my windows and I was incredibly curious. But I would never have guessed that the chauffeur brought me to Marylebone. A fancy restaurant in Marylebone to be precise. Similar to sleeping, Sherlock's a man who never eats according to John. Why take me out for dinner then if he can't be bothered to eat?

I walked inside and got startled by a waiter asking me to take my coat. “You must be Tina.”  
With a pair of large eyes I looked at him. Sherlock had been thorough. I stammered that I was, after which he asked me to walk with him. Even with my blue dress I felt heavily underdressed. This place was posh, really posh. Probably Michelin star quality. At the window, between a few plants I saw a familiar face.  
“Hi Sherlock”, I said.  
“Hi Tina.”  
“This was the last thing I expected”, I said when I had sat down.  
“Why?”  
“Bit obvious, isn't it?”  
He grinned.  
“You do realize that I have tons of questions again, don't you?”  
“I can imagine.”  
The waiter brought us wine and even though I don't like alcohol that much, I didn't mind a drink today. There fell a silence after the waiter left, during which I stared at his suit.  
“You probably don't like me saying this, but you look great.”  
“Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself.”  
I looked around the place. I never ate in these posh restaurants. How could anyone afford anything like this? “Why did you bring me here?”  
“Guess”, he said teasingly.  
“How can I guess this?”  
“You have proven to be quite good at it.”  
I sighed. Here we go again...  
“Ok, sorry to bring it up if it isn't, but all I can think of is that this has something to do with Alexandra.”  
“Correct.”  
“Ok. Well. First date in this restaurant?”  
“Close. Not first date, but most memorable moment.”  
“Ah. So now you take me here to relive the moment?” I winked when I said it, just to avoid him misunderstanding my words.  
“Not necessarily relive. That won't be possible, even if I wanted. I didn't realize it has turned into a near michelin star restaurant. All these years ago it was also Japanese, but just simple. I went through a lot of trouble to book this table and I'm forced to spent a lot of money on you tonight so you better have a good time.”  
It made me laugh. “Of course I will. I can't believe you are taking me out for dinner, my night's already a happy one.”  
“I bet Jonathan wasn't too keen on it.”  
“No, he wasn't. He doesn't understand why I would spent time with someone who influences my life in such a bad way. His words, not mine.”  
“You clearly don't agree with him.”  
“Otherwise I wouldn't be here.”  
“Shall I tell you something you should have realized a long time ago?”  
“Go on.”  
“He is clearly in love with you. It is so amusing to see how you torture him day in day out.”  
“What?! No way! If he is, he would have told me ages ago. Or I would have noticed.”  
This time he grinned and leaned back. I just shook my head.  
“I don't want to talk about Jonathan, I'm much more interested in you. You haven't yet told me why we are here. If not to relive the memory, then...”  
“Then...”, he repeated. “Guess.”  
I dropped my head and smiled. “Ok. Let me see. Normal men take a woman out for dinner either to apologize or to show her she's special, don't they? Of course they can be just friends who happen to go to movie or something, but than you don't choose this place. If I have to choose between an apology or showing you love me.. well, they are both impossible. And you are not a normal man, so you probably have a different meaning with this dinner, but I have no idea what. How's my deduction going so far? Is this going in the right direction?  
The corners of his mouth pulled slightly upwards. "Not bad. This is actually an apology.”  
“But you never apologize.”  
“Because I never have to.”  
I smiled. Of course he never had to, egocentric and stubborn as he is. “But if this is an apology, where do you apologize for: the shooting or for that night?”  
“That night.”  
“God, Sherlock, you don't need to apologize for that night.”  
“I do. It was embarrassing”, he whispered. “And I ruined your first proper experience and I know how important that it.”  
“It hasn't traumatised me, Sherlock. It's alright. Just a shame I can't do it with you, but that's all." I took a sip of my drink, after which Sherlock copied me. He looked happy that he got it out. An apology for this really wasn't necessary. It had taken courage to at least try it, when he already feared that this would happen. I felt sorry for him.  
"By the way, I can leave my flat in four weeks."  
"Thank you", he smiled.  
"Why do you keep saying thank you?"  
He shrugged and tried to look unbothered.  
I shook my head. "Nevermind. Well, if I move in, I do hope that you have more jobs for me in the future. I think you have a good influence on me, no matter what Jonathan says. And no matter how angry I was few days ago... ”  


The food arrived. We didn't even order anything, but I suppose Sherlock had done it on beforehand. The waiter explained what was on our plates, and it looked absolutely fantastic. Unfortunately the plate wasn't large, but that's what you get in a fine dining place.  
“I've ordered a 7 course menu, so don't worry”, Sherlock assured me.  
“Where do you get the money for that?”  
“Oh you don't need to know.”  
“Not entirely legal then.”  
“Maybe not. But it was already illegal money when I acquired it, so then I'd rather spent it myself than letting them spent it.”  
“Fair enough. I'm not complaining.”

Three courses later, he was telling me about cases he solved in the past. Cases and experiments he had been working on in his teens. He did made me promise on my life that I would keep the information for myself, but we had a nice and interesting chat. I was wondering how many people could say the same. Apart from John maybe.  
After another couple of glasses of wine, I dared to ask him more about his dom/sub relationships.  
Obviously he had done it before and I was just curious. He looked a bit uncomfortable with it and looked around him.  
He started to speak very softly and leaned forward a bit. “It was about 8 years ago. I used a lot of drugs during that period and I met a girl, equally drugged. She introduced me to it and it was great. However, she couldn't control her addiction, there was no way we could continue. I later tried it once in a club, but that definitely wasn't for me. I had waited for a chance like this. Why do you look so much like her? It's frustrating.”  
“I can put a bag over my head”, I smiled.  
“Even then you look like her.”  
“Sounds like a great part of your life... losing Alexandra, drugs...”  
“From a work point of view it was great.”

More drinks were pored. I could feel I was quite tipsy and that walking would become quite a challenge. Sherlock seemed alright, but I felt he wanted to go home. It was already passed 10pm. He'd been in a restaurant for far too long.  
“Is the driver ready again?”  
“Of course. We end this in style.”  
When I got up, I indeed wobbled on my high heels and it make me giggle. It even made Sherlock grin.

The car drove to Baker Street first, where Sherlock got out. When I was about to say goodbye, he held his hand forward for me to take it. Without any doubt I took it.  
“I'm not paying him to drive you home. I already spent enough money on you tonght. Get out”, he winked with a smile.  
He was impossible.

When we made it to the apartment, John was waiting and greeted us. Sherlock clearly didn't expect him to be there and he wasn't happy. Without saying a word he walked to his bedroom with big strides. John and I watched him as he marched away.  
"What's up with him?" John asked.  
I shrugged. "He has been happy all evening. So that's not it."  
John smiled. "It's me, isn't it?"  
"Yeah... I didn't want to say it, but that's what I thought too."  
"I told he I would be out. But no worries, I'm off to bed. You two can have the living room."  
I smiled. John winked. He was silently laughing about the thought of Sherlock being romantic.  


As John vanished to his bedroom, I knocked on Sherlock's.  
"You can come out now, John's gone."  
"No. You can come in here."  
Slowly I opened the door. To my surprise, Sherlock was simply lying on his back on the bed, reading a book.  
"Don't be angry with John."  
"Why would I be?"  
I sighed "Never mind... Interesting book?"  
"Not really."  
"Oh."  
Nothing happened. He didn't move a muscle and I didn't know what to do next. This was the first time that a silence was awkward, at least from my side it felt that way. I prayed for my mind to think clearly, but the alcohol wasn't helping. 

A few minutes later and the situation was exactly the same. It was somehow therapeutic to watch him, laying there, reading his book. I imagined him naked, which made it even more interesting. That pale, lean body resting on the sheets and his curly hair on the pillow. I closed my eyes and had no problem visualizing it, I think that was also a side effect of the wine. Beautiful Sherlock... 

When I had my eyes closed, I didn't realize Sherlock was standing up and walking towards me. The idiot had taking his shoes off and was as quiet as a mouse. He completely startled me when he suddenly grabbed my neck and kissed me. If he hadn't helt me like he did, I would have jumped a few feet back.  
"Do you still want to play games with me?" he whispered after the kiss.  
"Eh... well, yes, but I know you can't. It's ok."  
"Maybe we can try something else."  
"How do you mean?"  
"Something less... violent."  
I stared at him now. I had no idea where this conversation was going, but it was sobering me up fast.  
"Like... what?" I carefully said.  
"I still like to see you helpless and you still like to be dominated, so why not experiment a bit with a bit of rope that I keep under my bed."  
My eyes grew.  
"Are you sure you're ok with it?"  
"No, but there's a higher probability that I do. So I want to give it a try, if you don't mind."  
Of course I didn't... 


End file.
